In This Life, Maybe We Can
by NothingWithSound
Summary: UKUS. Arthur Kirkland is just an ordinary businessman with a unique love for antiques. Alfred Jones is a college student with a love for history. One day, they meet, and find themselves falling ridiculously in love. However, after understanding the connection between their past lives, can their love remain progressive? Or are they just the feelings of the past?
1. Chapter 1

The morning had been an utter disaster. The night before was a blur of alcohol, roughhousing with coworkers, and just plain bad decisions. When the light from the window announced the arrival of dawn, it took him a full half hour to get up and rejuvenate the consequences of the after-work drinking session. He didn't know how he was able to crawl into bed, much less how he even got home in such a pain-in-the-ass state. The immense headache was a reminder to himself never to go out drinking again. Of course, that thought only lasted for as long as the pain resided.

Sluggishly he trudged towards the kitchen, hoping for a nice cup of Earl Grey to start the morning afresh. With a teacup in hand and a painkiller in the other, Arthur Kirkland sat himself on the kitchen counter to self-reproach his rather brash handling of the booze. As his eyes traveled across the room, he came upon the old grandfather clock that was placed in the hall across from the kitchen. He admired the artistic decor that outlined this vintage masterpiece. Arthur had been fond of it ever since his late grandfather had given it to him as a congratulatory gift for graduating high school. Although his mother complained about it "taking up too much space", Arthur found it quite lovely as he did with all other antique furniture. For a reason unknown to him, he had a strange love for the past. The antiques that were scattered throughout the house obviously displayed his hobby, but Arthur believed it was more than the actual "things". There was something in the idea of the past that made him feel insecure, yet oddly, enduring. Thinking of this over tea, he finally glanced up at the actual time ticking within the old woodwork.

"...B-bloody hell…" he groaned and let out a defeated sigh. He was late for work.

Getting dressed was an unbelievably complicated task for a more-than-slightly hungover man. Huffing out grunts that were unnecessary for getting dressed (at least for a sober person), Arthur finally looked presentable in his crisp new suit (that wasn't as "crisp" as it had been prior to his uncoordinated handling of it) and quickly combed down his disheveled hair. He ran through his bedroom door and paused once to consider breakfast, but waved it off when his eyes met the clock again. He can grab a bite during break, he told himself.

Outside was quite a bit chilling for the man, but he didn't mind. Rather, he couldn't mind about it when his attention was focused solely on getting to work quickly. Living near the bus stop had been a great idea in the beginning since that meant not having to bother buying a car to go with his untouched license. However, days like this made him reconsider.

Reaching the bus stop with a little more than five minutes to spare, he collapsed onto the bench that was placed far too close to the road for comfort. A long sigh escaped his lips as his mind wandered off to the foreboding consequences that was to come. Probably a heavy lecture from his boss about time being a synonym for money.

As the minutes ticked by, Arthur noticed a few more people standing behind him, waiting for the bus to come. He had never met these people before because his bus was always the hour before this one. Glancing through the corner of his eyes, he saw a woman with an orange jumpsuit, holding a sports bag that looked to weigh a ton considering all the miscellaneous athlete's gears that stuck out from it . Next to her stood an elderly man wearing an old-looking brown suit with a velvety tie. Arthur simply amused himself over the attire as he finally came upon the last person in line.

A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stood tapping his foot at the pavement as music flowed through his headphones. He had on a simple framed glasses and a small backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes were closed as he hummed an unfamiliar tune, most likely whatever song that was playing on his phone. He had a wide smile on his face that seemed to scream "today is a oh-so wonderful day to be out and about!". The youth seemed to swallow up the environment as his happy appearance bounced off every which way. Arthur held his breath. It felt as if the world was only a monochromatic photograph, with the boy being the sole colorful splash of paint inside the frame. Arthur's gaze turned into sheer gawking as he stared at the boy in utter awe. He felt flames burst within his chest, and had to swallow the urge to just take the youth's hands in his own and caress it ever so gently. The happiness and innocence that spilled through this young man made Arthur shiver with unfamiliar euphoria. He hadn't even noticed the bus coming from the end of the street.

As he took in this gorgeous sight, he heard the roar of the engine and snapped back into reality. As each passenger climbed on board, the youth opened his eyes and looked up. Oh, his eyes. They were bluer than the sky, deeper than the ocean itself. Azure? Sapphire? No English words were available on the Brit's tongue to describe the chemistry that made up the lad's view. It was simply… perfect. As he adored the treat before him, he noticed a familiar feeling tugging at the back of his memory. The more he stared at the boy, the more he noticed a strange feeling of passion, lust, and… nostalgia? He tried to shake that thought away, but there was definitely something altogether… amiss about this meeting. It felt similar to all those times he would see old furniture in stores on display; the feeling of "I finally found it again".

"Um, sir?" Arthur started, abruptly shaken awake from his daydream. He looked up to see those crystal blues gazing down at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I, um, yes… quite alright, thank you."

"O-kay. Well, you should probably get on the bus, huh?"

"...hm?" As soon as he said that, they heard the roar of the engine get back to life. The bus left a trail of smoke as it turned left into the next street.

"... Or not. Drats, we missed it!"

"I… sorry." Arthur looked from the boy to the street and realized that not only had he misplaced the bus himself, he had let this delicacy of a lad into a dilemma with him.

"No need to apologize, buddy! Just don't daydream near the bus stop. If you've noticed, the bench's a lil' too close to the road. Trip and you'll be on your merry way to the hospital." He winked and let out a small chuckle when the Englishman stumbled an embarrassed "right". Arthur felt an enduring clench in his chest as the youth rambled on. "So, late for work?"

"Yes... But I was already late to begin with, anyways. I'm rather worried about you. Don't you have a place to be?"

"Meh, no need to sweat it, dude! I'll just tell 'em I was out saving a cat!"

"That's hardly a believable story."

"Well, that's what heroes do, so believable or not, that'll be my excuse."

"Hero?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. The term seemed to fit the youth perfectly, although the reason was lost to him.

"Yeah! A hero! Like, those dudes on television that fly around and rescue damsels in distress!"

"You do know that this is the 21st century?"

"I know, I know. But saving someone is no different in any generation, no matter the circumstance! Like just now! I, well, at least I tried to save you from being late. Guess I failed this time, ha ha." The boy gave a pathetic smile as his hand caressed the back of his (delicious looking) neck. Arthur gave his head a few shakes to let that thought go.

"Thank you, nonetheless."

"Aw, shucks! You're welcome!" The lad perked up at the gratitude and nodded his head in satisfaction. The little blush of his cheeks made Arthur want to kiss him senseless.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Oh, I'm Alfred! Alfred Jones. Nice to meet ya, uh…"

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

"Right! Arthur!" they shook hands vigorously, making the Brit question the boy's all-too-much energy. It was practically radiating off him. "Nice to meet ya!"

"Likewise… Alfred." The name rolled off his tongue nicely, leaving a hint of warmth in its trail. But something didn't feel right about this name. It felt as though a different name suited him better. That's silly, Arthur told himself, I just met him, I shouldn't judge his name of all things. Alfred is a perfectly suitable name.

"Well, guess we're stuck waiting for the next bus, huh?"

"I suppose you're right. Do you not have any other means of transport?"

"I don't have a car, if that's what you mean. Don't judge me though! I'll get one… eventually."

"I'm on the same boat, lad."

"You don't have a car? You look like you could afford one, judging by the suite."

"I just didn't find the need for it. And I must point out, you're the one doing the judging."

"Ha ha, true, true! Didn't mean anything by it!" Alfred's laughter was like a drug. Addicting. Arthur wanted to pull that out of him more. Or rather, something more like a moan or a gasp would certainly sound-

"Hey, as crazy as it sounds, it feels like this isn't our first time meeting each other."

"... H, huh?"

"Yeah, I know! Totally nuts, right? But it feels… nostalgic? I guess? I don't know how to put into words exactly… but you feel… different…" Alfred trailed off, noticing how the other was staring at him intently. "I, I mean, that's not… what I meant to say! Sorry for weirding you out and all! Ha ha!"

"No, no… I feel the same way. It feels like we've met before… somewhere. Maybe in our past lives?" Arthur felt his heartbeat pace faster as Alfred began to fidget nervously on the bench. He let himself lean in closer to the boy, noticing how every inch forward made the youngster's pink cheeks a shade darker.

"Ha… ha ha! That's impossible! I mean, it's true I have a thing for history. But that's more like a hobby and…"

"Maybe we were friends in our past? Or maybe family?" they were now close enough to feel each other's breath on their lips. Alfred drooped his eyelids and stared at the Englishman. So tempting. "Or maybe… lovers?" Just as the mouths were about to touch, the roar of the bus rang clear through the air. Arthur bolted upright and clung to the end of the bench, Alfred doing the same on the other end. Both of their hearts raced quickly, unable to identify if the cause was from the bus or from what had happened. They both just stared at each other awkwardly as the driver honked the horn for attention.

"... T, time to get on! Come on, we're already late as it is."

"Yes… quite." Arthur stood up and slowly walked himself to the entrance. What had happened? Did he seriously tried to kiss a man whom he had just met on a mere speculation that they had somehow known each other in the past? _Past lives_ , to be exact. It wasn't the best hookup line he had ever come up with. As he sat himself on an empty seat, he saw that Alfred had followed him. They sat next to each other, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"So… where ya getting off?"

"To you."

"Huh?"

"Er, no, I meant the eighth stop." He rubbed his temples with his finger, trying to get rid of the indecent images his mind came up with.

"I'll be getting off on the sixth. You know, the big college over there?"

"You mean- ( _the sound of honking could be heard out in the traffic_ ) - college?"

"Yep, that's the one!"

"That's a pretty prestigious college… You must be quite clever, Alfred."

"Well, I hope I am! I do want to be a scientist after all!"

"Oh, in what field?"

"Archaeology!"

"You did mention that you like history."

"Yep, I'm in love with it! I mean, it makes me feel all mushy inside, like, I dunno, happy? Makes me feel like I'm meant to do this. If ya catch the drift?"

"I also tend to like older things… like antiques, for example." Arthur explained to Alfred how he has many vintage accessories in his house, one of them being a grandfather clock his own grandfather had sent him. He also mentioned the feeling of nostalgia every time he sees a particular antique or furniture displayed in shops. Alfred listened carefully, nodding every once in a while to indicate his attention.

"You mentioned… the past, right? Like maybe we were connected somehow in the past?"

"Yes."

"If you put it like that, it seems it's fate that brought us back together again!" Arthur blushed heavily at that statement. "So maybe we ought to be friends from now on!"

"Friends?"

"Yeah! Hey, since that's decided, I'll need your number, dude! I wanna talk to you more about this… meeting." At that, Alfred ducked his head a little to hide a sudden rush of embarrassment that came from recalling a few minutes prior. Arthur noticed this, and decided to do the most rational thing he could think of. He slowly took Alfred's hand in his, and softly kissed the fragile skin on top.

"Yes, it was quite an astonishing meeting, I must say. I do dearly hope we could meet again. Here's my business card; call me whenever, love." And he took the risk to kiss his hand once more. The lad blushed adorably, and gave a meek laugh.

"Ha, yeah… I, I'll call you when I get the time. Here's my stop so… s, see you around!" Alfred quickly dashed for the exit. "Bye, England!"

"... England?" Before Arthur could question the lad's choice of words, Alfred was already out the door and the bus moved slowly along. As thoughts (both decent and indecent) flowed through the Brit's head, he became more and more confused (and aroused) about this youth. It was true that Arthur was from the UK. Was Alfred calling him that because of his accent? But England seemed a bit weird to be a nickname. As the bus roared to a halt at his stop, he found himself thinking of Alfred, along with a name of his own that just seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"... America."


	2. Chapter 2

_"And with that, we have decided… country personifications will no longer exist."_

 _"What?! How?! How is that possible?!"_

 _"It has been decided and agreed upon between each of the nation's representatives."_

 _"WE are the representatives!_ I _am the United Kingdom!"_

 _"We as the PEOPLE have decided that it is simply too complicated to continue as it is… Thus, we have chosen to govern this nation ourselves. We regret to inform you, but you are no longer needed."_

 _"W-what about the other nations? How will they proceed with our nation's affairs when I am no longer present?"_

 _"As we have mentioned, this is an agreed term amongst ALL nations of the world. I am quite sure this message has been reached to the others as well. You will all disappear."_

 _All nations? That means… America?_

 _"... How will we "no longer exist"?"_

 _"It is actually quite simple. We started researching ways to discard- erm -dismiss your "type of being" and found that by taking away the title as a nation, that nation will disappear within an hour of their dismissal."_

 _"This… this hasn't been tested yet, correct?"_

 _"We have already tested this using those self-proclaimed micronations across the globe."_

 _"... Sealand…"_

 _"We have already informed you of your dismissal. Please understand that this is for the best of the people… your people."_

 _"..."_

 _America. It is always your name that comes up during such drastic times. All those wars we've fought, side by side; all the times you would claim your heroism and strive to change the world for the better; all those times we would argue about silly things that would eventually be forgiven without a word… that sweet boy who would run to greet me at the docks; that boy who had changed my lonesome world into an array of colors; that boy who took my hand over good food; that boy who rebelled against me to reach for something only he could see… my love._

 _I still haven't told him anything. I still haven't told him that he left a whole can of instant coffee at my house that I could never stand to drink. I still haven't told him about that one new movie he was so looking forward to seeing premiering at my house. I still haven't told him that I had been practicing cooking hamburgers just for the times he would come over. I still haven't told him… that I am in love with him. I had been for so long._

 _"... May I make a phone call?"_

 _"You only have a little more before you disappear, I believe it is beneficial to spend your time al-"_

 _"This is my last moment here on Earth, I do not want to regret it."_

 _"... Do as you must… Motherland."_

 _"... not anymore."_

 _I walk out into the hall and take out my cell phone from my inner coat pocket. America. I must call him. I must tell him that I love him. Even if he rejects me, even if he takes it as a joke…_

 _I dial the number._

 _"... Hello?"_

 _"America!"_

 _"England!"_

 _There is a moment of silence between us. I take a deep breath. This is the last time I will hear my love's voice._

 _"America."_

 _"..."_

 _"Did you hear the news?"_

 _"... yeah, I did."_

 _"... Are you alright?"_

 _"...E-England…"_

 _A soft, almost inaudible sob could be heard over the speaker._

 _"Hush… it's alright, America… I'm here, don't cry… shh…"_

 _"England… I don't want to disappear… I-I know I'm being selfish. This is for the sake of my people… but… I don't want to go…"_

 _"I know… I know."_

 _"Is this what people face when they face death? Is this what it feels like? If it is, then… as a nation, I should be able to understand the same fate my people has to go through… and yet… I-I don't know what to do, England!"_

 _"Shh, it's okay… wherever you go, you know I will follow. If nations go to heaven, then I will meet you there. You will not be alone… you… I…"_

 _"...England?"_

 _"What is it, my boy?"_

 _I hear a faint laughter coming from the other side._

 _"Thanks England… I love you."_

 _"What do y-"_

 _"I love you England! From the bottom of my heart, I love you! I love your freakishly large eyebrows! I love that face you make when you accomplish something great! I love how hard you try to keep yourself calm, even though that never really works out! I love how passionate you get about great poetry, but fail to understand the awesomeness of rap! I love how awful, but nostalgic your cooking tastes! I love your goods and bads! I just love you so much, England!"_

 _"A, America… I…"_

 _"... I love you, England… Goodbye."_

 _"America, I lo-"_

 _The phone was silent. I looked down to see that it was not cut off… it was simply silent on the other end._

 _"America?! America, can you hear me?! America!"_

 _There was no answer from the man. My America had left. And he had left with an unanswered confession. My boy. My sweet, sweet boy._

 _"No, this isn't… this isn't how it was supposed to… No… America… my America…"_

 _The sound of my own weeping was the last I remember._

 _"... I love you, too…"_

As was predicted, his boss began lecturing him about all the precise calculations of how his ungodly arrival had disrupted the flow of work. Arthur Kirkland just let him ramble on, as his own thoughts begged attention. That boy from earlier had unquestionably caught hold of his heart, and it ached with delight to know that the boy presumably felt the same. Or so claims Arthur's positive conscious. On the other hand, he regretted not getting the boy's phone number himself. There is a possibility of Alfred not calling him at all, and then what? He would have no means of contacting the lad. True, there may be a chance encounter at the bus stop again, but who is to say he will be late for work once more? Of course, if things don't escalate quickly enough, he will gladly sacrifice his work hours for the lad. However, if the boy doesn't call him, then it can be interpreted into saying "stay the hell outta my life". Then perhaps going all the way just to see him may be more of a bother to the boy than anything. And Arthur Kirkland did not want to disappoint.

"I am disappointed in you, Kirkland."

"My apologies, I will try not to be late again."

"Not "I will try". It is "you will not be late again"."

"Of course." Unless his love life is on the line.

"Fine. You are dismissed."

Before his boss could change his mind, Arthur stepped out of the office quickly without another word. Sighing, he sat himself at his desk with his cell phone on vibrate in his pocket (for he did not want to miss a call from Alfred in case he calls during work).

"Ohon, what do we have here?"

Arthur looked up and groaned at the unpleasant face that suddenly replaced the image of Alfred from his head.

"Dammit, get your hideous face out of my vision, frog! You're ruining a good moment!"

"Oh, a good moment? And what might that be?" The French questioned with a visible smirk marking his (self-proclaimed) beautiful face.

"None of your business, Frenchie. Get your lazy arse back to work."

"Hmm, and here I thought you would come in today with a magnifique hangover… Alas, I must say, it is quite disappointing to see you sober."

"I don't always get hangovers, you git. Stop assuming." Arthur lied.

"Now, now~! I saw you enter late today! What merveilleux disaster happened along the way, if not a hangover?"

"I-I just missed the bus." Recalling the events from earlier, a slight blush could not be hidden on the Englishman's cheeks. He smiled fondly at the memory of Alfred closing his eyelids, waiting for Arthur's lips to capture those sweet-

"Aha! You are smiling! Something must have happened today. Something...extraordinaire if it makes you blush with such delight! Oh, I must know! Who was it? Who was it that captured such a disagreeable heart as your own? I, Francis Bonnefoy, the (self-proclaimed) being of love, shall help you along your journey to eternal happiness!" the Frenchman sighed delightfully at the thought. The stubborn man had finally found himself love! This was certainly a day to celebrate, according to the man from the so-called country of love. As he turned to face the person in question, he was met, not with a bushy-browed scowl, but rather a nice, hard knuckle to the face.

"You stupid frog! You ruined the moment! Twice!" Arthur fumed at the fact that his Alfred had been replaced by some Frenchie blabbering something about love or whatnot. Meanwhile, that said Frenchie had his hand on his nose, rubbing the pain away carefully.

"Mon ami, this is no way to show friendship!"

"Don't "mon ami" me! I already have a perfectly nice friend without your picture in it."

"Oh, and who might that be? Besides your imaginary green bunny friends."

"Mint Bunny is most certainly real, you git! And Alfred is a perfectly good…" Arthur covered his mouth hurriedly, though that hardly stopped Francis from pointing it out with a smirk.

"Alfred? Is that your friend's name?"

"N-No, he's…"

"Ah, I see, I see. A love interest! I should have known, your true love is a man! I do not judge a person for who they fall for, in fact, I encourage everyone to fall in amour with anyone!"

At that moment, Arthur's phone began to vibrate. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled it out and already gave his best impression… of a best impression.

"Good day, this is Arthur Kirkland, how may I help you, love?"

A few minutes later, there sat a laughing Frenchman and an Englishman suffocating in his own embarrassment.

"Stop laughing!"

"B-but you! T-to your mother! L-l-love!" he fell off the chair, trying but failing to hold back tears.

"S-shut it! I was not looking at the caller ID… it was an honest mistake!"

"Oh, today is so much better than a hung-over British delinquent!"

Arthur looked down at the floor, trying his best to forget the memory of his stunned mother on the other end of the line. He knew he was being too careless. Alfred wouldn't be calling now of all times; it was still school hour. Taking a deep breath, he whispered to himself, "I do hope he calls me soon."

(break)

"Alfred F. Jones! You're late! Again!"

"Haha, sorry! I had to save a cat along the way!"

The teacher looked at him with a not-this-again expression, and pointed at the seat in front.

"Nevermind… take your seat. You do understand that your scholarship can only be given if the PERSON IN QUESTION IS PRESENT."

"I know! But that cat really had a bad-"

"Sit!"

"Okey Dokey!"

Jumping (or rather, diving) into his seat, Alfred took out his notebooks and pencils and straightened his face. The teacher sighed internally, knowing that Jones was a brilliant student if he tried. Though his attendance was lacking, there was something in him that made all the faculty want to try and get the best out of him. It was sort of a gamble the teachers did in seeing who could bring out the cleverest Jones in class.

"Right, now we shall begin our review over page 123…"

Alfred let his mind wander back to this morning where he met a rather, ahem, charming, young gentleman. He had said his name is Arthur. Such a stereotypically refine name, fit for someone like that man. Alfred couldn't help but blush, recalling the way the man had said his name. He was British. Alfred always had a thing for British people, and always dreamed of going abroad and living in London. He could not pinpoint why though. Of course, the accent always turned him on, but it wasn't necessary the only thing that called his attention. Was it the history? Was it the buildings, the pubs, the culture? He could not say, but there was certainly something about this whole "England" business that kept him coming back again and again. Speaking of England, why had he called Arthur England? Of all the brilliant names he could have called this handsome man, he had decided upon the most unpredictable name of them all. Did Arthur think he was being prejudice? Oh, god. Alfred closed his eyes, shaking that awful thought away.

And then there was that one moment when they almost kissed. Blushing madly like a schoolgirl, Alfred looked down at his blank notebook. That moment was certainly… great. He never thought he was gay before, but that… that had been a good enough proof to say otherwise. Arthur had taken his heart, that much was for certain.

Now, there was but one problem. Frowning, Alfred took out the business card he had received. The card read "Arthur Kirkland, XX Business, Phone Number…". Alfred knew he should've given the man his own number. With Alfred having the only key to communication, he has to be the one to make the call first. And that, _that_ … was very nerve-wracking.

Sure, he was good at talking to people, making light conversations, giving a presentation in front of a crowd. But speaking on the phone with the very guy who had stolen his heart and almost his first kiss? That was a very different situation altogether.

Sighing, he let his mind wander back to the classroom and the discussion at hand.

"Okay, so any questions?"

"Yeah, I have one!"

"Yes, Jones?"

"Can you repeat the whole thing again?"

(break)

Arthur looked back at his phone later that evening to find a text message on display. He quickly scanned the sender and felt his heart leap with happiness. Alfred Jones. Finally! Excitedly clicking on the message, he carefully let the words sink in.

 _Hey, Arthur! This is Alfred. Uh, guess you'll already know from the name. I tried calling you around seven (Drats, he was in the shower!) but since you didn't call back, I thought I should just send you a text! So here it is! So I'm gonna give you my number so that I don't have to keep calling you when you're busy or something! I was worried I might call you at the wrong time! (How sweet, he was worried about something like that!) Anyways, here it is and call me whenever! I'm usually awake through the night, so night, day, doesn't matter! C ya, bro! -Alfred_

At the end of the text, Alfred had written down his number.

Arthur practically howled with joy, rolling around on his bed like a child waiting for Christmas. Alfred texted him! He gave him his number! So it wasn't a one-time thing! Arthur felt that he was as close to heaven as he could ever hope to be. No, scratch that. Heaven would most likely be a vision of Alfred in bed with him.

He quickly sat up, getting his phone ready to call his soon-to-be beloved! What should he say? What a lovely evening we have tonight? No, nothing so cheesy. With shivering hands, he dialed the number. Oddly, though, he felt something… wrong about this whole ordeal. The act of calling Alfred… made him scared. Scared of what? Rejection? Arthur shook that thought away. Alfred himself had texted him, saying that he could call anytime. There was nothing to be afraid of! And yet, he felt his breathing quicken every ring that Alfred didn't pick up.

"Hello?"

Arthur snapped back into reality.

"Ah, yes, this is Arthur Kirkland… if you recall?"

"Of course, dude! I was the one who sent you that message, right? I wouldn't forget your name of all things!" Alfred chuckled. His laughter was like music to his ears.

"Right, indeed…"

"So, what's up? Something on your mind?"

"I-I was just thinking… are you free this Saturday?"

"Wait, let me check…" There was a sound of some papers being shoved away and pencils clinking and- was that a meow? A banging of something hitting the floor, an animal grunt, and a loud swear word later, Alfred finally came back on the line. "Yeah, I'm free!"

"Lovely! I thought we could perhaps… go see a movie together that day?" Arthur decided not to question the prior noises.

"Sure, sure! What time's best for ya, buddy?"

"Would eleven be alright?"

"That's fine! Then maybe we could go eat lunch together afterwards!"

"B-brilliant idea! Then I shall meet you on Saturday near the XX movie theatre!"

"Gotcha! See ya later then!"

"Have a good evening, love."

"... o~kay! Good night to you, too!"

"Good night."

As he hung up, he slowly looked up at the ceiling. He had somehow managed to land himself a date. A movie date. A typical place to go… for lovers.

"Oh, dear god will I survive without laying a single hand on the lad?"

Meanwhile, Alfred was screaming into his pillow about his infatuation calling him "love".


End file.
